


Multiplicity

by xtwilightzx (blackidyll)



Category: Subarashiki Kono Sekai | The World Ends With You
Genre: Clairvoyance, Holding Hands, M/M, People Watching, Post-Game, Underground/Game mechanics, conversations over tea and coffee, parallel universe/multiverses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-07
Updated: 2013-03-07
Packaged: 2017-12-04 14:22:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/711694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackidyll/pseuds/xtwilightzx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's just a drawing, but under an Angel's power, the creature seems almost alive, bright yellow eyes staring up at them hungrily. Hanekoma cages it within four stark lines, and otherwise lets the sheer white of the napkin smother it. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>A brief look at aspects of the Kingdom Hearts worlds from TWEWY-verse. No spoilers for KH3D.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Multiplicity

**Author's Note:**

> Written last year to celebrate the release of Dream Drop Distance and getting more of the TWEWY gang. But to be honest, I have not played KH3D so this is very much a TWEWY and Shibuya-centric fic. 
> 
> You don't need much knowledge about Kingdom Hearts beyond the fact that the heroes fight with mystical Keyblades that allow them to lock and unlock worlds and Heartless are creatures of darkness who have lost their hearts, and that multiple worlds also exist in KH canon.

_That place isn't for you_ , the Angels say, when enough of them have noticed the abnormality amongst the sets of parallel worlds.   
  
It's really more that they hadn't noticed at all, not until a violent fluctuation of energy had called attention to... nothing, a complete vacuum between the planes and frequencies. The more talented Composers, cat-curious and always itching to show up their Angels, begun not-so-discreetly investigating, and the Angels had swooped in for damage control.   
  
 _Focus on your Games._    
  
And when that didn’t work, they bluntly added:   
  
 _It takes a very specific key and a very special person to unlock that particular set of worlds._    
  
The Composers don't possess wings quite the same way the Reapers do, and so Joshua feels the shiver of restless energy like the rustle of wind through feathers, a particularly green newcomer not as tightly serene and in control of her powers as the rest of them.   
  
When will the Angels learn that that's the worst thing to say to a group of near all-powerful beings?

*

Hanekoma sets the counter like an art piece; the small teapot and a single tea cup by Joshua's elbow, the dusty brown clay darkened to warm bronze with moisture, and the coffee sitting directly across, an Italian blend of the highest grade.   
  
The Wildkat Cafe, still very much the Producer's domain, is quiet, reflecting Hanekoma's pensive mood. Steam, white and delicate, swirls in the air between them, the heady scent of freshly brewed coffee not quite masking out the sweet aroma of green tea.   
  
"Well," Hanekoma says, "it's more that we can't get in either, and Angels are built to... jump. Someone, or more like several some ones, has sealed that plane off on purpose. And it’s with a power that even the Angels can't easily break."   
  
One ambitious Composer had discovered a loophole: that by dropping into the bottom-most reaches of the frequencies, far beyond the UG and right into Taboo territory, he would eventually press up against hidden corridors that lead right back up within the shielded plane.   
  
Those corridors had hidden taboos of their own, however. That Composer didn't have a chance to Fall; the unceasing swarm of darkness had simply devoured his heart, destroying the Music and all his powers with it.   
  
His city, in a violent backlash, had destroyed the leftover Soul.   
  
Hanekoma takes a napkin and inks a small creature, bulbous with wide, wide eyes, tiny antennas twitching from its forehead and as sinfully black as Hanekoma's coffee.   
  
"They call it a Heartless," his Producer says. "Pretty misleading name, since they have a particular fondness for the taste of hearts."  
  
It's just a drawing, but under an Angel's power, the creature seems almost alive, bright yellow eyes staring up at them hungrily. Hanekoma cages it within four stark lines, and otherwise lets the sheer whiteness of the napkin smother it.   
  
"It doesn't strip off bits and pieces of Soul like the Noise do," Hanekoma says. "It takes the heart directly and leaves a soul and body behind. The Music, by all indications, is destroyed, but it's possible for the body to live on, incredibly rational but without emotion."  
  
Joshua picks up his tea cup, rotating it as custom dictates, and takes a careful sip. "Like the Fallen?"   
  
Their gazes meet. Hanekoma’s eyes are unreadable behind his glasses.   
  
"There may be similiarities."   
  
Joshua eyes the Heartless drawing over his tea cup, his lip curling back in distaste. Soul, Imagination and Music make up each and every single living thing in his domain; recoded though they may be, not even the Noise are without their hearts. When Joshua truly erases something, everything goes; he doesn't leave a part behind to be pieced together like a morbid jigsaw puzzle.  
  
"So, the fluctuation from the hidden plane a while back - it was because of these Heartless?"   
  
"Not quite."   
  
Joshua arcs an eyebrow.   
  
"They destroyed quite few entire worlds from the core outwards, but it was the instantaneous restoration of those multiple worlds that caused the snapback." Hanekoma runs a hand idly across his jaw. "Not even we Angels know the full details, but whatever happened there, it must’ve been phenomenal."   
  
 _Entire worlds_. From whispered reports, the Taboo noise can be equally destructive, but even so they are chained to the lower frequencies and a competent Conductor, much less a Composer, is more than capable of handling a moderate outbreak of them.  
  
"Heartless," Joshua murmurs, tracing a finger around the inked cage. "How kind of the Angels to grace us with such insights of the hidden world."  
  
Ever since the illegal Games and the Taboo Noise incident, both he and Hanekoma have been buried with rumors. Rather than restrict them, the "higher ups" plied them with tantalizing hints of the Fallen, stories of the other side, constantly tempting them to cross the line. They don't realize that Hanekoma is too busy enjoying a shining, ideal Shibuya and Joshua the remembered niceties of the living, and that as long as what saved Shibuya remains alive and in the RG, Shibuya is quite safe from either of them.   
  
But even so, surely the Angels are not stupid enough to freely hand them this knowledge.   
  
Hanekoma laughs ruefully. "They wanted to know if I've seen the Heartless before. With the Taboo Noise and the refinery sigil."   
  
"Ah."   
  
Joshua doesn't need to ask; if Hanekoma had, he would have had his wings forcibly stripped, his power torn apart and whatever leftover thrown into the lowest frequencies to suffer a fate similiar to the luckless Composer.   
  
They stare at the napkin and the little creature upon it.   
  
Joshua slips off his chair, letting his RG form blur slightly. "If you ever let any of these into Shibuya," he says, smile sharp as murder, "I'll erase you myself."   
  
He doesn't bother with his cell phone; he sets the napkin ablaze, pouring energy into the flames until even the lingering suggestion of the Heartless is extinguished. Joshua wants no such inspiration to hit anyone within Shibuya, not the Reapers, the Players or the living in the RG, and most certainly not the Noise.   
  
"Sure thing, boss," Hanekoma says, in perfect agreement. Only black smudges of soot remain and Hanekoma wipes down the countertop as if it's any normal day.   
  
Which it is. Nothing has happened, and Joshua's kingdom is still his.   
  
Hanekoma, annoyingly, catches the thought and shoots him a lopsided grin. "Quite a change, J."   
  
Joshua sighs. "Would you rather I go back to destroying Shibuya, then?"   
  
"Nah. It's good for you."  
  
Joshua narrows his eyes, but Hanekoma has turned away to clear the teapot and cups, and Joshua has more worthwhile issues to address. "As you say, Producer."   
  
He pushes the cafe's glass doors open, the quaint doorbell tinkling a goodbye, and steps out into Shibuya's exuberant embrace. 

*

Neku has a number of options when Joshua refuses to pick up his phone and does not reply to any of his texts. Hanekoma is quite happy to snitch on Joshua or at least pass a friendly message if Joshua's in a particularly foul mood, but this time Neku foregoes any sensible route and simply stakes out in the Underpass, sketchbook in hand, and talks - loudly - to the air. The passersby don't dare approach or even comment; Neku's baleful glares haven't lost any of their effectiveness.   
  
It's all very amusing but also incredibly distracting, and after Neku goes through two thermos of coffee (no doubt supplied by a certain meddling barista), Joshua sets his work aside and teleports out, and does not, to his credit, temporarily pull his proxy's frequency down to the UG in retaliation.   
  
"You could come right in, dear, instead of clamoring outside the door like a desperate suitor."  
  
Neku starts, whirling around and almost elbowing Joshua in the stomach. Joshua steps out of range gracefully and they stare at each other in the tinty Underpass lights.   
  
“That only took two hours and seven minutes,” Neku finally says, after a quick glance at his phone.  
  
It’s now fifty-fifty whether or not Neku wears his headphones when he’s outdoors; he pushes the headphones down around his neck, tilting forward on his perch and frowning up at Joshua, and Joshua decides he can play the smirking, all-knowing partner today.   
  
“I didn’t realize you liked the timer so much.” Joshua flashes an empty palm at Neku and his proxy flinches like he’s received the brand of the Game timer again. But although Neku’s mouth is drawn in a strict line, his eyes are sharp and unwavering when he glances up.   
  
"You need a new Conductor, don't you?"   
  
His proxy’s picked up sharper fangs after returning to the RG – at least around Joshua. After all, Neku is perfectly considerate when he’s with Misaki or the Bito girl.   
  
Joshua tilts his head and hides his smile. "Why, are you volunteering, Neku?"   
  
"No." Neku doesn't react this time, but there's a subtle line of tension across his shoulders and back. Joshua wants to draw a finger over that line, to watch Neku shiver and then scowl, ferociously. “You haven’t been around lately.”   
  
“Did you miss me?” Joshua giggles, just to annoy Neku. “I’m flattered.”   
  
“You need to get your head checked.” Neku snaps his sketchbook shut, tapping it restlessly against his thigh. It’s highly endearing, but Neku notices Joshua’s smile and glares. “Look, Shibuya’s been quiet lately. Kind of… preoccupied. I don't think you should duck out of whatever it is you do, but if you’re working yourself to death or something—"  
  
Joshua might have to set the next Game's objective right outside Cat Street, just to keep the "friendly cafe owner" busy with the Players and out of his hair.   
  
"I know you get senseless and irrational around CAT, Neku, but you really shouldn’t believe everything Mr. H says.”   
  
Neku snorts. “Who said anything about Mr. H?”   
  
Joshua reaches out and steals Neku’s sketchbook, to distract his proxy from the fact that for several seconds, Joshua has no idea what to say. Neku tries to snatch it back but Joshua pulls out of reach, letting the book fall open to whichever page it wanted.   
  
Composers don’t sleep, not the way the living do, so instead of dreams Joshua sees flashes of other possibilities. The Angels might have taken steps to prevent another adventurous Composer from attempting to visit the hidden plane, but between Hanekoma’s little story of the Heartless and his own clairvoyance Joshua’s been picking up more than a few tantalizing visions.   
  
Not many of them make much sense out of context, but Joshua’s spent more time tightening his influence over Shibuya; safeguards against meddling Angels and the Fallen, and creatures far more destructive than Taboo Noise.  
  
Joshua pauses on a quick pencil sketch, an abstract piece of curves and latticework. “You’re actually worried.”   
  
Neku growls at him. “Shut it.”   
  
"You didn’t deny it.” Joshua smiles down at the drawings. “Don't worry, dearest. Shibuya is quite safe this time."   
  
Neku just gives him one of his long, silent looks. "You know, Josh, you're not as all-knowing as you like to think you are."  
  
And what is that supposed to mean?   
  
Joshua closes the sketchbook, offering it to Neku, and captures Neku’s wrist when the other boy reaches out to take it back.   
  
"Traverse the streets of Shibuya with me."   
  
“What the hell.” Neku struggles as a matter of principle, but Joshua isn’t above cheating and maintains his hold easily.  
  
“I need a break.” Joshua lets his voice fall into a croon. “You pointed it out, after all, so you’re the logical choice to accompany me.”   
  
Neku rolls his eyes. “Fine,” he says, and to Joshua’s surprise he rotates his captured wrist to grasp back at Joshua’s hand, using that hold to pull himself to his feet. "Someone's got to keep you out of trouble," Neku grumbles, and even now he doesn't let Joshua take the lead, shoving his headphones back on his head and tugging Joshua along.   
  
Joshua glances down at their linked hands but Neku strides ahead, avoiding Joshua’s curious stare.   
  
“How sweet.”   
  
Neku doesn’t turn and he doesn’t let go. “Not listening, Josh.”   
  
It’s an interesting feeling, the casual irreverence that Neku treats him with, and for once Joshua gives Neku that free reign and lets Neku pull him along, only pausing to lace his fingers through Neku’s like a lover’s clasp, just to see him scowl. 

*

"Stop making cryptic Composer remarks" is the last thing Neku says to him, and in the next moment he's asleep, his expensive headphones cradled carefully between his hands.   
  
It’s tempting to leave his proxy here and enjoy the look on his face when he awakes alone, but instead Joshua finds himself swinging up the wall to sit next to Neku. Around them, the people of Shibuya gather and disperse, the Statue of Hachiko the meeting place on every frequency level.  
  
Joshua remembers the feel of those headphones in his hands, the first time Neku spoke directly to him – the Composer and the partner both; Neku doesn’t seem to make a distinction – after the Game. He doesn’t think about it very much, the reason why he picked up the headphones and dropped it back on his proxy’s desk, unmarred, or why he wasn’t surprised at all when Neku continued wearing them whenever he spoke aloud to Joshua until they finally met again.   
  
“How irrational, Neku,” Joshua murmurs. “Why do you keep coming back?”  
  
Neku, predictably, does not respond.   
  
Joshua takes the headphones and puts it on, tugging Neku over so he can flick the player on, heavy, rhythmic beats pouring over the speakers. Neku will have a crick in his neck when he wakes up, leaning against Joshua like that, but this way Joshua can wrap Shibuya's Music around them, layers of light and sound that all attention slides over, hiding in a world of their own.   
  
The trill of an unfamiliar tune winds itself through Shibuya’s Music, and Joshua looks up from Neku into his own eyes, staring past him.   
  
The clairvoyant vision is layered heavily over reality, the statue of Hachiko just visible beyond the opaque buildings and cobblestone streets, the midnight darkness of this other world clouding the early evening sunlight in Shibuya. Joshua hears no coherent echoes of a city’s Music, but there is a potent energy there. It's a mash of potential and possibility, the illusive world as patched together and alive as the travelers who inhabit it.   
  
Joshua doesn't need a mirror to recognize the look on his counterpart's face. Head tilted, violet eyes narrowed under silvery eyelashes, the Joshua of the other world watches with an intense focus, twinkling lights from the buildings above casting soft pink and blue highlights in his hair.   
  
It is, Joshua suspects, how he looks when he composes, if he did so in his RG form.   
  
"What are you talking about?" his counterpart says, "You're not giving up, are you, Neku?"   
  
Joshua knows better than to turn, that if he looks away the vision will unravel, the worlds pulled apart once more. He listens and hears nothing, his counterpart the only visible entity in this projection, but he doesn’t need to – it’s all there in the way his other watches and speaks, the way he reacts.   
  
Neku, again.   
  
His hand tightens around his proxy’s shoulders and Neku makes a faint noise, eyes flickering but not quite waking, worn out after spending an entire day alongside Joshua. He smoothes a calming touch against Neku’s mind, a suggestion rather than an imprint, and – miracle of miracles! – Neku settles, frowning slightly in his sleep.   
  
Joshua pulls Shibuya’s power close and his counterpart’s attention shifts, their gazes meeting in a moment of connection. Joshua watches that mirror face, watches the way his other’s eyes flicker to the side.  
  
“This Neku’s mine,” Joshua says, smiling. “But it’s not like you don’t have your own history with yours.”   
  
The eerie flats and sharps that make up the energy of the other world surges, so Joshua misses what his counterpart says, if he said anything at all. Joshua doesn’t mind; it isn’t the first time he’s met another version of himself, or even another version of Neku for that matter. But for all the fun that Tin Pin is and the mystery that the hidden plane offers, they don’t compare to what is already his. His Shibuya, his Game, and his own little coterie of troublesome creatures.   
  
And his handpicked proxy, of course.   
  
"Well then," Joshua says as the vision begins to dissolve, the dark buildings and streetlamps bleeding back into the familiar pathways around the statue of Hachiko. He lifts a hand and gives a little wave. "I'll leave that world to you."   
  
His counterpart smiles, and then the vision is gone.  
  
“Popular on every world, Neku,” Joshua sighs. His proxy does not wake and Joshua is irrationally glad of this. Some secrets are still Joshua’s to keep, and there are certain phenomena Neku does not need to be privy to unless he chooses it, the way Joshua once did.

He brushes idle fingertips against Neku’s cheek and his proxy’s Music resonates under that faint touch, wild and vibrant and strong. 

Dusk had fallen and Neku has an existing, if flexible, curfew, but Joshua’s never been bothered by such details. Heavy beats continue pouring over the headphones, an accompaniment to Shibuya’s ever present Music curling around them, and Joshua threads his fingers through Neku's hair, smiling as his district transitions to the bright vibrancy of nightlife.

“Let’s see what tomorrow brings, shall we?” 


End file.
